


Five Times Jack Kind Of Regretted The Truck (And One Time He Didn't)

by psocoptera



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5 Things, Come Shot, M/M, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Favors requested, favors rejected, the wrong people impressed, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jack Kind Of Regretted The Truck (And One Time He Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> This is 300 words of gen character snippets and then 1200 words of porn ficlet, FYI.

1.  
"What do you _mean_ you'll only meet me for dinner somewhere with valet parking, you _giant snob_ , three weeks in the NHL and you think you're too good to - "

"No," Jack interrupted, embarrassed. "Just, look, Shitty, have you ever tried to park a truck in Cambridge?"

2.  
"I, uh, know where that Ikea is," Jack put in, trying to not sound too eager to his new teammates, "It wasn't far from - anyway. I could drive, I have a - "

"Sars has a Yukon," Marky said. "Never take a pickup to Ikea, flatpacks summon the rain." Robs nodded seriously. Jack sighed.

3.  
"No, look," Lardo said, "I tried a fan, a hair dryer, and one of those air cans for keyboards, but I can't do the whole thing fast enough and it's too uneven if I do it a bit at a time."

"So you want me to... drive with it," Jack said.

"Yes," Lardo said. "I think on the highway it'd be blowing enough to get the streaks right?"

Jack could see how this was going to go and resigned himself. "Think the splatters will wash off?"

(He only sort of minded when they didn't. Lardo's projects were pretty neat.)

4.  
Parse was waiting in the tunnel. Jack couldn't see a way to avoid him following him out.

"Nice truck," he said, when they got there. "Remember when - "

"Nope," Jack lied.

5.  
"That your truck?" Bittle-the-elder asked. (He wasn't _Jack's_ coach.) Jack nodded, then kicked himself mentally; he was determined to be polite (except about calling him Coach) even if Bitty's dad glowered at him not only through the rest of dinner but through _every interaction they ever had_. Jack was going to win this, damn it.

"Yeah," he said. "Uh, I bought it right after graduation."

"Huh."

Jack waited, until he realized the conversation was already over.

+1.  
"Left," Bitty said, "Left - no, _your_ left - "

"I don't - " Jack grunted - "See how that's going to work." He had been hoping Bitty's _i need you to drive up TONIGHT_ text was a booty call, not a "I just bought Lardo's friend's chaise longue and I need your truck to get it to the Haus" call, but here he was, getting sweaty from moving furniture and not anything else.

"To clear the railing," Bitty said, red in the face, and why did they have to be doing this when it was like 32 degrees out? Too hot to be trying to get this stupid thing up the stairs. Just as Jack thought that he felt a drop of sweat bead up on his forehead and fall to the green upholstery.

"Uhh," Bitty said, staring at the spot. He appeared to Jack to have stopped straining against the stuck corner and was only keeping his grip by reflex.

"Um, sorry," Jack said, "Where did you - "

"Underneath," Bitty said dreamily, and then blinked. "Oh! Um, sorry. Let's try - like this?"

"What are you going to do with this thing, anyways," Jack said, once they were finally making progress up the stairs again.

"Recline," Bitty said. Jack could picture that, actually, Bitty naked and stretched out and fanning himself. Maybe holding a glass of sweet tea.

They got the chaise longue through Bitty's door in a dramatic diagonal maneuver involving swinging the other end through the doorway of Jack's old room. Jack set his end down with relief once they were in and right-side-up again.

Bitty went and closed his door, then flopped down onto his new purchase.

"Is there tea in the fridge?" Jack asked hopefully.

"I had something else in mind," Bitty said, shifting positions, Jack's eyes drawn to how tiny his shorts were. "Why don't you come over here... no, like..."

"Oh, um," Jack said.

"Remember that thing we couldn't quite - ? Well, I _think_ if you just - yes, that's - "

"You bought us a sex couch," Jack realized.

Bitty blushed. "Well, I... yes, yes I did," he said. He wiggled back and started taking off his shirt. "But as excited as I am about possibly solving our height-related problems, what I'd really like right now is, um."

"Um?" Jack asked, also moving to take off his shirt. Apparently he'd had to earn the booty call.

"You shouldn't be dripping sweat on the upholstery you should be dripping sweat on _me_ ," Bitty said in a rush. "If that's - "

"You like knowing you made me work?" Jack asked, holding his upper body up over Bitty, letting his lower body press him down into the chaise longue. Bitty looked so good underneath him, between his planted hands.

"Mmm," Bitty answered, running his palms up Jack's arms. He hooked one of his legs around Jack's. "You gonna help me get this thing back down the stairs next year?"

Jack felt breathless for reasons unrelated to the stuffiness of Bitty's room. "Of course," he said, "We can load up all your stuff in the truck. Especially if... um..."

"I'd like..." Bitty started, then laughed a little. "One of us has to say it, and it's rude if it's me."

"Okay," Jack said, "I hope I'm taking your boxes to my apartment. But we might have to hire movers to get this thing around the bend in the stairs."

Bitty's hips lifted against his, nylon sliding damply on nylon. Why were they still wearing shorts.

"Maybe I want to see you try first," Bitty said, "There's something about a big strong man _carrying_ things, mmm."

Jack thought someone _not_ so big carrying things was even better - specifically, Bitty, who you could overlook if you didn't know better, who was sleek rather than ripped, who had hoisted his end of the couch like it was nothing until they got hung up on the stairs.

"You have amazing forearms," Jack said, the kind of compliment he thought all the time and didn't say out loud. "Put your arms around my neck."

Bitty did, interlacing his fingers at the back of Jack's head, and Jack ducked his head to nuzzle the soft skin in the crook of his elbow. He was so warm, Jack felt warm and sticky all over, and another bead of sweat slid out of his hair and plashed onto Bitty's chest. Bitty shivered. He was still rocking gently up into Jack; Jack was tempted to drop down and kiss him and squish him a little, but he stayed up where Bitty wanted him.

Bitty let go of his neck and traced Jack's collarbones, his pecs, the ridges of his abs down to where they were pressed together.

"You could come on me," he whispered. Jack had, before, rubbing off on him, failing to aim elsewhere when Bitty had his hands on him, but not quite like that, not... deliberately.

"Yeah?" Jack said. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea - it was shockingly, viscerally appealing, thinking of Bitty spread out under him expectantly - but it wasn't anything he ever would have dared to suggest himself. He still worried about being too intense, about asking for the wrong things. "Maybe I could blow you first?"

"How 'bout you blow me _after_ ," Bitty said, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders and pushing him back. Jack felt a pang of rejection until he realized Bitty just wanted room to strip off his shorts. Jack yanked his own shorts down and Bitty grinned, wide and lascivious, and, well, maybe Jack worried too much about asking; Bitty had bought them a sex couch, after all.

"So, like, here?" Jack asked, and Bitty nodded, sprawling back on the chaise longue and playing idly with his own nipple.

"Yeah," Jack said, getting his hand on his dick. "Play with yourself, show me how much you want it."

Bitty blinked but dropped his hand down to his dick, thumbing at the head. Jack was kneeling up over him; he leaned forward, bracing his free hand on the back of the chaise longue, so he was leaning over Bitty, looking down at him.

Bitty licked his lips, then let go of his dick and licked his palm. "Slow," Jack said, sounding hoarse to himself, and Bitty nodded and fisted himself slowly, the half-time counterpoint to Jack's brisk strokes.

It was hard work holding himself up asymmetrically like that; Jack could feel sweat running down his back. A drop fell from his collarbone onto Bitty's cheek and Bitty licked at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to catch it. Jack groaned and came, hitting Bitty right at midline, beneath his ribs; it pooled in the slight depression between his abs and ran down to his navel when Bitty lifted his head to look.

"Oh," Bitty said, "Jack, you - " and smiled at him, dazzled and open-mouthed. Jack moved himself down to the floor and pressed his face into Bitty's hip, suddenly shy.

"That was beautiful, honey," Bitty said, petting his hair, "And if you ain't gonna touch me _right now_ I'm - "

"I'm on it," Jack said, lifting his head and frowning at the idea that he might leave Bitty hanging.

"I know I can count on you," Bitty said, "And, obviously, by the way, my boxes, your apartment, I thought of that the first time I saw the truck. Please, now?"

Jack hid a smile against his dick, and then opened his mouth and got to work.


End file.
